


Beg.

by EuphoriaWriter



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Abuse, BDSM, Blood, BloodPlay?, Bloodplay, Chain - Freeform, Choking, Collar, Consent, Cutting, Dom Strade, Dom/sub, F/M, Fingering, Fisting, Flogging, God - Freeform, Gore, It's supposed to be a corporal punishment flogger/military grade one, Knifeplay, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Other, PUNCH ME IN THE FACE, Pillory, Professional Dom, Reader is physically female, Reader-Insert, Restraints, Riding Crops, Sex, Spanking, Spreader Bars, Strangulation, Torture, Vaginal Fisting, Vaginal tearing, Vibrator, Whipping, blowjob, cat o'nine tails, dubious, flogger, flogging gone wrong, sex bench, you know when flogging wasnt fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-08 05:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuphoriaWriter/pseuds/EuphoriaWriter
Summary: " “Safewords?”“Green for good, yellow to pause and red to stop.”“Why don’t you go strip for me then and wait for me, on your knees.” "A Dom! Au Strade, there will also be horrorporn later.





	1. Safewords

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this came from a weird idea that devolved into this, I have 0 experience in the world of professional dom's so I will not say this is how it happens 100% of the time.  
> I know that the fic will say it's completed, but it's not, I have one more chapter after this I'm working on, so be patient.
> 
> Also the reader is physically female, but I restrained from using pronouns (for any of my nonbinary folk that have vaginas) I try to keep it similar to how the games don't include any solitary pronouns to the MC

There were a few questionable reasons to why you spent your money and time going to a professional dom services. Honestly a lot of people would pick at your life, say it’s because you’re lonely, can’t find the right partner or you’re bored. But you knew your reasons, it was exciting, you were a tad addicted to getting tied up and feel completely helpless. The dom you see is named Strade, you’re not sure if that is his real name or his stage name, you never heard a peep of a last name, which was for the best, less attachment. His studio was ran downtown and had a clean set up, top floor a tiny reception area ran by a short youthful looking redhead named Ren. It was all clean, well kept and the actual studio itself was spacious enough for whatever clients want. You know that there are sometimes sex parties Strade hosts here occasionally, you always get an invite, but you never come, you were not so big on exobitionism. 

Today you came in a little early, sitting near Ren’s desk so you can visit while Strade was probably cleaning up or whatnot. You were never too sure what he was doing before your appointments.

When he was ready for you he pulled you into a hug through a firm handshake, he was always big on physical contact, not that you minded.

“Afternoon buddy, you finished the sheet?” he asked, pulling back and beaming at you, all smiles and wide eyes.

You held up the sheet and nodded, Strade opened the door for you into the studio, Ren chimes in to tell you to have fun, heat rushed to your cheeks. You’ll never get used to other people knowing that you came here, even if they worked for Strade. Strade plucked the sheet from your hands and looked over it quickly.

“So, we’re going to be doing a lot of impact play today huh?” he asked, looking up at you, his tongue poking out to lick his top lip. You nodded, a bit shy still, even though it’s your fifth visit. You started coming here when you saw an online ad and called in to ask about meeting the dom before making an appointment. Precautions.

“Yeah, w-was thinking you could pick out the restraint furniture,” you said, pointing out the bondage specifications you had written down.

“You always like letting me be adventurous with you,” he laughed, patting you on the back, feeling your face grow flushed again.

“I like the unknown,” you replied smoothly. Strade gave you a toothy smile and ruffled your hair affectionately. 

“Safewords?”  
  
“Green for good, yellow to pause and red to stop.”

“Why don’t you go strip for me then and wait for me, on your _knees_.”

You shuddered, Strade turned around and approached a coffee table to place your slip down on. He grabbed a water bottle from there as well, you watched as his adams apple bobbed. Stripping and folding your clothes to the side you grew a bit excited and eager as you lowered yourself down on your knees, feeling the cool marble.

Strade placed the water bottle back down on the coffee table, you watched as he walked over to a closet and pull out a thin black riding crop. The sound of his boots walking back towards you was cacophonous in the room, he grinned at you, coming in close and circling around your body, slowly. There was a quick sting on your back followed by the sound of the air getting cut through. You flinched and a small gasp came from your lips.

“Sit up straight, now,” he said, voice firm and cold.

You did as he said, feeling the crop trace up against your spine delightfully. It stopped behind your neck and slipped down against and around your shoulder as he walked back in front of you. Strade brought the paddle of the crop up under your chin, directing your gaze up at him.

“What do you say when I strike you?”

“Thank you sir,” you responded quickly and Strade smiled at the fast response.

“That’s right.”

The crop hit against your breast, quick and fast, you let out a sharp yelp in response, feeling your skin prickle up.

“T-thank you sir,” you responded, feeling your thighs tremble in excitement.

“No need to thank me for that one liebling, it was a reward for being so good,” he spoke softly, pressing the crop flat against your nipple and pressing it back into your body, it was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. 

“I’m going to shower you in rewards, all I need for you to say in return are screams,” that was the last thing you heard him say before he struck the crop down on top of your thighs. You jerked forward a bit, gasping and yelping, before you could reply he struck there again. It stuck and felt so good on your skin.

“Keep your back _straight_ ,” he warned, moving the crop to smack the side of your thighs. 

You nodded in response,” yes sir,” and proceeded to tighten your posture, head up, chest out and shoulders back.

Strade moved behind you again, which made you anxious and excited, but then the crop stung against the bottom of your feet and it made you squirm and cry out. He didn’t like to play fair, but that was also what made it so good, you were sweating to hold your poised psoture as he smacked your feet.  It made you squirm and shake, but you kept the same position, it felt straining and you wanted to sob a bit, you weren’t even done yet, you just started.

He moved up to smack the cheeks of your ass a few times, more gentle than the last few strikes.

“On your feet,” he ordered, you compiled as quickly as you could, your feet felt sensitive on the ground and you felt too nervous to break your posture now.

Using the crop again, he tilted your chin, directing your vision over towards the centerpiece in the room and patting your face with the paddle a few times lightly. It was a dark wooden St. Andrews cross.

“You’ve been so good today liebling, so I’ll let you choose, do you want me to strike your ass and back, or your chest and sex?” he asked this cheerfully, like he was describing his favorite thing in the world.

“Front,” you responded and he hummed in appreciation before his hand fell down behind your neck, crop gone from your skin and Strade was guiding you towards the cross. Strade got a small stepping stool nearby and slid your wrists into the cuffs at the top of the cross, tightening it so it was taunt to your skin.

“How is this?” he asked, you flexed your hand in the cuff a bit, nodding.

“Green.”

Strade smiled at that and moved to finish the other wrist before doing the same to your ankles at the base of the cross. You’d never felt so exposed and there was a bit of a stretch in your arms, especially from your nerves at the top of your arm stretching up to your pinky finger and ring finger. Strade gazed over you, his eyes burning in an amber sunset bathing you over, it made you quake.

You feel the crop tap against your belly lightly, it made you involuntarily shudder.

“I want you to scream nicely now, if I like it I’ll let you _cum_ ,” Strade instructed, looking straight into your eyes, “think you can do that?”

Your head nodded, “yes sir,” you responded, trying to hold back a few trembles that moved like electricity through you.

The crop slapped against your thigh, the sound reverberated in the studio, it was harder than the strikes earlier, so you let out a scream, this one was a little higher and more shocked at the pain. Strade struck you there on the thighs, the strength behind his blows more intense, at one point you bite down on your lips and let a scream release from deep in your chest, eyes stinging from it. He stopped hitting your thighs and got closer to you, holding up the handle of the riding crop to your lips.

“ _Open_ ,” he ordered and you did so without any hesitation, panting as he slid the tough light handle in between your teeth, you pressed your teeth down, feeling the core of the handle in your teeth.

“Hold on to this for me, I’ll be right back,” he said, letting go without warning, you struggled a moment to grip the crop between your teeth, getting good leverage on it. Strade walked back over to the closet and pulled out a cat o’nine tails from the closet and there was another object that he slid into his jeans, the handle was bright red. Strade came with, holding the flogger and smiled.

“Don’t drop that,” was all he said, coming in close and letting the tails of the flogger tease against your skin, making you grow goosebumps in response. He moved it down, over the slope of your breast, dangling over your stomach and pressed it against your lower belly, close to your vulva. Your body responded with a hitch in breath and a small jerk as he pressed it into your flesh, but not in you, never in you.

“You _like_ that?” he asked, voice close against my skin, he moved the flogger against my skin more, pressing down and moving it in circular motions that made you squirm. 

“You like feeling me move your _insides_ around?” the question was off putting, but it somehow made you feel hot and bothered more, you could feel your wetness between your legs slick down to the insides of your thighs. Strade slapped the flogger down against your cunt, it was soft and like a invitation to the idea, it made you jump in your skin.

“The anticipation is quite intense isn't it?” he asked, moving the neck of the handle down and slipping it between your folds, you could feel the dry leather move easier with the wetness between your folds. He moved it back and forth, the tails tickled against your thighs and the hard neck of the handle pressed against your clit. You panted against the crop, letting out an estranged moan fall from your chest, breathing deeply. He rubbed it against your clit, eyes watching you as you slowly unraveled more, panting, moaning and drooling down on yourself, you burned, it felt so good and too much. The pressure grew harder and more unbearable on your clit, making your moans turn into sobs and you couldn’t help the wetness gather at the corners of your eyes when you squeezed them shut. The handle of the crop between your teeth got grinded in between your incisors.

Strade always ended up doing something unorthodoxed like this, it made your head spin and pushed you in the right ways, making your mentality stretched, but you always made a point to put down edgeplay on your slips. Part of your really wished you could actually have Strade fuck you, but inserting any body part inside of you would constitute prostitution in the state. You respected that he wasn’t going to break the law, but you just wanted him to rail you. 

You swore you could feel him panting a bit against you, but before you could look over he was pulling away, drawing the flogger away and striking you with it against your vulva sharp and quick. Hissing you felt a tear let loose from your eye’s and drop on your breast, jolting forward in shock. He stuck again, this time against your breast and you squirmed against the restraints, the next strike coming with more force and you screamed. The pain blossomed over your chest as he continued to strike there, your grip on the riding crop getting looser with the amount of saliva and grinding your teeth on it. Strade finished his strikes on your chest and hit your vulva again a few times, looking at you intensely, pupils blown wide.

“I’m going to take the crop back now,” he said, reaching to place his hand under your chin, you carefully, with tremors still going through you, slowly dropped it into his grip. Strade slid the flogger into his back pocket and gripped the handle of the riding crop, pressing the paddle against the top folds of your lips, smacking there lightly and making you whine.

“You’ve been so good for me liebling,” he purred, “do you want to cum from me hitting the crop here,” he made a point of this by patting the paddle lower, a little more under the hood between your lips directly on your clit.

“Or,” he pulled the crop back, tucking it under his arm and pulling out the object he had stuck in his jeans earlier, the red handle revealing a paddle with a heart design indented into it.

“You can cum on a vibrator while I paddle you.”

“Surprise me,” you said, and with that you were uncuffed from the cross and Strade had you across his lap, holding a wand vibrator under you and his other hand holding the paddle. The vibrator was off and he was moving it against your clit and down your folds slowly, it made you shudder.

“You ready?”

“Yes sir,” you responded, voice rough and full of need.

Strade didn’t even turn on the vibrator as the paddle smacked down on your ass, and you can feel the power behind it reverberating through you. It came out of nowhere and you let out a loud whimper, shuddering when the wand circled around your clit when your body moved against the force of the paddle.

“What do you say?”

“T-thank you sir!” you responded quickly when he snapped the question at you, the paddle came down to pat your ass softly, “ das ist richtig liebling.”

The paddle came down again, softer than the first hit, but still enough to press your hips against the wand, he kept doing this, the friction wasn’t enough and the pain was making more tears to drip from your eyes.

“S-sir,” you began shakily, Strade paused, “p-please.”

“Please what?”  
  
“P-please turn the vibrator _on_.”

Strade hummed, the hand holding the vibrator pressed up against your clit harshly and the hand with the paddle pressed your lower back down against it. You could feel the flesh of your sex down there move around and it caused multiple nerves to light on fire, up your back, down your leg and across your stomach, bright and burning.

“Tell me how much you want me to _fuck you_ and I’ll turn it on,” he whispered, close to your ear, your body shuddered and a bright flush of heat came through you like a bolt of energy. Strade eased off of you and started striking your ass again with the paddle, the wand still turned off and was now lightly teasing you. Your teeth gritted as you hissed, needing that friction, that vibration, it would push you over the edge. The paddle came down harshly and you let out a scream.

“I can’t hear you,” Strade teased and you shuddered, preparing yourself to start babbling.

“I-I want you to _fuck_ me,” you started, voice shaky and wrecked, “s-so badly, I w-want to _feel_ you fill me up a-” your voice cut off with another strike and a loud whine escaped your mouth.

“Continue,” Strade growled, the paddle rubbing against your ass, “tell me more.”

“I w-want to feel so _wrecked_ that I f-feel sore for days. My t-throat, my pussy- I don’t care, I-I, ah, would want you to fuck me, use me, m-make me your _plaything_ , I d-don’t care.”

The loud sound of your ass getting smacked echoed in the room, you grit your teeth, feeling a bit delirious and frustrated beyond repair. You moaned against his thigh, shaking and rubbing your hips down.

“I w-want it so _bad_ , p-please, I would want you to fuck me u-until I can’t t-think straight- only you, just y- _you_.”

You were whimpering now, the paddle smacked down again and then, finally, Strade flipped the vibrator on, but he didn’t stop on the low setting, he cranked it up. Tears blurred your vision, it was too much, the stimulation, the pain, the intense vibration on your clit, your orgasm ravaged your body, making you thrash on his lap and scream, hands clenching, gripping onto Strade’s leg for an anchor, the vibration toned down as you calmed down from your own climax. You were panting harshly and let out a loud moan when the vibrator was turned off and taken out from under you along with Strade’s hand. 

His hands caressed the back of your head, he was petting you while you were in the afterglow of orgasming, it was intense and the aftercare was very much needed. Strade was speaking in such a kind voice, either it was all in German or in plain english, you couldn’t tell, too out of it. The feeling of his rough calloused hands over your head and down your back was relaxing, you almost drifted off to sleep when he slowly nudged you up to your knees. 

“C’mon _liebling_ , lets get you cleaned up,” he said, helping you towards the back where there was a bathroom with a shower. Strade helps you inside and turns on the water for you.

“I’ll come back with your clothes,” he smiled, slipping out , when the door closer behind him you sighed, feeling your heartbeat pick up a bit. What a man.

You slip into the shower, it was hot and burning, something you needed after a session like that. Letting the water wash over you, you grabbed the shampoo and soap, starting to clean the grime off of you. Rinsing the suds out you heard the door click open, the curtain was pulled over so you weren’t too concerned, besides he’s seen you naked before. Strade’s footsteps drift around the room and then grew quiet with the sound of the door closing. You tilted your head up to the shower spray, letting it pelt against your neck and collarbones as you stretched back, feeling your spine pop.

That was when the rushing sound of the curtain being drawn back happened, it was rapid and quick. Before you could do anything else you felt a hand grab the back of your head and slam it against the tiled wall hard enough that your vision blurred. You blacked out.


	2. “Aren’t you a surprise?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey buddy,” he greeted, all smiles and friendly tones, “glad to see you’re awake, how’re you feeling.”
> 
> “W-whats going on?” you asked, voice hoarse and throat dry, “where…”
> 
> “Don’t worry about a thing, I just thought you’d want something more… personal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read on and perish.

It was dark, your head was throbbing with a dull pain, you shifted to move your head, but it was being held firmly in place. As you began to gain more consciousness, you realized you were on your knees, which were being forced open by a bar and cuffs. Moving around more, your arms were locked in place up with your head in different slots and your body was pressed down against a cold hard ground, being held in place. You never remembered signing up for something like this.

Then a bright light flickered on and your eyes immediately watered under the brightness, cringing in towards yourself, but failing to. Once your eyes were adjusted you looked around to get a good view of the room, it was a basement with wooden cabinets with power tools and there was various things around with sheets drawn over them. That was when you saw Strade, he had came down from a set of stairs you can barely see, he crouched down in front of you, but it was still difficult to move your head.

“Hey buddy,” he greeted, all smiles and friendly tones, “glad to see you’re awake, how’re you feeling.”

“W-whats going on?” you asked, voice hoarse and throat dry, “where…”

“Don’t worry about a thing, I just thought you’d want something more…  _ personal _ .” 

The way he said it was suggestive in a way you didn’t like, almost similar to how he spoke to you when he had pressed the neck of the flogger into your stomach. It made your stomach churn and you regretted thinking he was ever a nice person, whatever was going on was not good.

“P-please,” you found yourself begging, “I’ll do whatever you want, just- please.” You weren’t sure how well you were begging, but Strade laughed and it filled your gut with fear, swirling, dark and heavy  _ fear _ . There was a tiny thought that curled in your head, a small one, miniscule and it lapped at the edges of your sanity that told you that no matter how hard you begged, there was no way you were going to get out of this situation.

You were silent too long and Strade sighed, looking a tad annoyed, his eyes scanning your face for a second, his expression going blank and void of emotion. From the previous scenes you were used to doing with him you never thought he could look at you like this, he usually always kept a cheerful demeanor, sometimes you wondered if he changed it if requested by a client. Now you were not so sure you wanted to know what that was like.

“You know, I get to know some superficial things when I work with clients like yourself,” he began, picking at a patch of dry skin on his knuckle, “but sometimes I don’t feel like I’m really getting a good view of the…  _ whole _ picture, you know?”

You struggled to look up at him in his eyes, biting on your tongue in your mouth, being this restrained was making your body ache, listening to Strade talk like this was maddening and made that fear fester inside you.

Strade held your gaze, he plopped down on his ass to the ground, it was dirty and you noticed the sickening coloration of something rusty staining the concrete ground. You didn’t have enough time to focus or think too much about it as pain shot up your hand, his boot was pressing it back against the wooden form of your restraint. A scream fell from your lips, Strade looked at you with a mix of indifference, annoyance and a slight flush on his face, but it went away quickly.

“C’mon  _ buddy _ ,” he said, voice picking up lighter as he effortlessly grinding his boot against your hand against the wood, “you’re usually a little more vocal than this, I thought we were having a  _ conversation _ .”

Strade’s boot let up, you swallowed thickly, panting, trying to catch your breath, hand throbbing in pain and eyes stinging as you forced your gaze to meet his eyes. You could not remember what Strade was talking about before he had just tried to lightly pulverize your hand.

“I-it hurts,” you said, voice quiet and still worn out, this apparently was what he wanted to hear. Strade smiled, it was the same one you were used to, but now it just made the acid in your stomach churn.

“There you go, you’re very compliant,” he laughed, sitting up to ruffle the hair on your head in that affectionate way you were used to. Everything you were used to with this man, including your trust in him was being tarnished by the second in this situation.

“You know, I rarely act so unprofessionally, but you’re one of my special cases. I just really want to get to know you better, don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

You felt the bile stir in your throat, in any other context outside of what was happening right now you would of probably been turned on right now. You would've gladly jumped at the opportunity to be that  _ one _ client he wanted. But not like this. No this was not what you would of fantasized about.

“Someone will find out I’m here,” you remembered Ren working the reception, not to mention the charges on your credit card to Strade’s business. You let your parents have access to your bank information, they could trace it back to Strade, it was a spiteful amount of hope, but that was what your sanity needed to keep yourself together. Then Strade laughed and his words came out to spit in your face.

“I’m not sloppy you know, when I’m really interested in someone I pay attention to every detail. Ren is really a great secretary you know? I taught him all the tricks, including redirecting funds and information gathering, he’s great at that, it’s his childlike looks and demeanor you know?” 

You stared at him intently, “what do you…”

“C’mon pal, you wouldn’t think the one secretary I have isn’t aware of what goes on behind the scenes? Besides, he told me about the chat you two had during the first time you walked into my studio.”  
Your brows furrowed in confusion, slowly you remembered when you came into the reception, Ren was walking you through the process of filling out slips and the legal requirements. There was a prominent flush on your face the entire time, Ren was so charismatic and kind, patient too. You remembered that conversation now, Ren asked if you were nervous.

_ “I-it’s my first time coming to a place like this…” you admitted a bit too timidly to your liking. _

_ “You ever try anything like this with someone then? A previous partner, or are you experimenting?” Ren asked with a understanding tone, it really made you feel comfortable discussing these things with him. He did work as a secretary for a professional dom, he’s probably had all sorts of conversations like these. _

_ “Ah yeah, I really liked it with a few ex’s, dating someone with those kind of interests are hard. My friends don't even know about this to be honest, I’m not used to conversations like these being brought up, you know?” _

_ Ren nodded, a kind smile on his face, “yeah I get it, a lot of my normal friends are scandalized by anything that even sounds like it belongs in Fifty Shades,” he chuckled. _

It was such a comforting small conversation, Strade was not even in the studio when it had happened, apparently something in your face gave away your shock because Strade was laughing now.

“Normal people are scandalized, right? Or was it friends? Doesn’t matter, like I said, I’m not sloppy, but don’t worry, we’re going to have a great time.” 

Strade looks over you a little bit more, you were still naked and exposed, it was the last thing you wanted to be in this situation right now. He leaned over and fiddled with the wooden restraint keeping your head and hands locked in place, half of it popped off and that’s when you realized it was a pillory. Once the top wa popped off he grabbed you by the wrists and tied your hands back around a pole, the rope dug into your skin roughly, this was industrial rope, not any of the stuff he’s used before on you. With the lights on you could glimpse at what was keeping your legs spread, it was a spreader bar, but it looked different than some you’ve seen before. You were forced to perch on your knees, angled awkwardly with your legs spread behind you and wrists tied back against a pole that was further behind your legs, making you arch back in a position that caused the nerves in your thighs to stretch awkwardly. It ached, and not even in the fun way.

Without any prompting, Strade grabbed the spreader bar and forced your legs forward, your feet pressed into the ground at a painful angle as he forced them to pull forward in front of you. You groaned and gritted your teeth as you managed through your feet being crudely brought in front of you, laid out on the concrete with the bar more visible to you. Strade dusted himself off and looked at you.

“You want something to eat or drink before we start?” he asked, hospitable and kindly, like how he would ask for specifics on your slips.

You swallowed down your pride, you haven’t eaten since… Well you weren’t sure, considering you can’t tell how much time had passed, but your last meal was the night before your appointment. You were used to skipping breakfast and you wanted to go eat lunch after your session, but that never happened.

“Something to eat, please,” you said, feeling a bit awkward in this new position and asking your kidnapper to feed you most of all.

“Ah-ah,” Strade said, tsking at you, “something to eat please…” he repeated, looking at you expectantly.

Your face flushed, he couldn’t be serious. Was he really going to insist? Knowing what he was like when you  _ disobeyed _ in the studio was always notched up and harsh, you didn’t want to know what kind of punishments he would deal in this setting.

“Sir,” you finished for him, “please, sir.”   
You tried hard not to grit your teeth, it was frustrating and it felt humiliating to say such a thing in this situation, but Strade smiled and hummed. He walked over to a cabinet and came back with a protein bar, unwrapping it and coming in close to you, holding it out to your lips.

“Go on,” he said, there was a small feeling of impatience in his eyes, but he was still smiling and looking at you kindly. You leaned forward, eating the bar, trying not to think about how awkward this was, then again awkward was better than what he was probably going to do to you. You finished it and felt better, Strade tossed the bar on the dirty ground and that was when he pulled out a knife, it was real and looked like one of those hunting knives you remember seeing in sporting goods stores.

“W-wait, no,” you responded without even hesitating, “p-please sir.”

That caught his attention, he looked over you with curiosity for a second, giving you a toothy grin. He got closer, tracing the tip of the blade against your leg, starting from the knee cap and down the center of your thigh. It was cold and sharp, but the feeling oddly reminded you of nails tracing your skin.

“You know I never read what your hard no’s were,” he started, “I’m more focused on what you want and see how far I can go with it, it’s more exciting that way.”

The way he was talking was so friendly and casual, it was like he was in a cafe, having a conversation that was delightful to him. That was how he usually talked too, which never bothered you too much, you thought it was apart of his charm, being friendly and social. Right. 

He made a small cut on your upper thigh, it was quick and it stung, but it still made the air in your throat leave for a small moment. Small beads of blood came up from it, Strade moved the tip of the blade to prod at it, gently, messing with the exposed layer of skin, making even the smallest cut hurt more with his irritation of it. You bit down on your bottom lip, struggling not to squirm too much, it was painful and uncomfortable, even for you.

“How about this,” Strade began, you looked over at him with your eyes squinting in discomfort, he was smiling again, a thousand watts. “Repeat to me, word for word, what you said when I told you to tell me how badly you wanted me to fuck you and I’ll stop.”

“Huh?” you looked at him, feeling a bit dizzy from holding yourself back from squirming, that was when Strade sunk the blade down into the small cut, letting it sink in. Your head reeled back and you screamed, your other leg struggling to move, but it was painful and still attached to the bar, moving it caused your other leg to move as well and that was another wave of pain. It was like a domino effect of pain, even your wrists moving against your restrains got bit back by the harsh rope causing friction on your skin there.

“Repeat it,” he said, slowly pulling the blade up from where it was sheathed into your skin, it was either a miracle or on purpose that he didn’t hit that artery there. You didn’t have the patience, time or sanity to think about if it was on purpose, because that meant he’s done this before and it was the ice breaker. Your mind was scrambled, trying to remember what you said was hard, everything in that scene of a memory was completely delirious and felt like you were begging to get what you wanted. That was what you did best, beg.

“I-I,” you started, lips trembling and eyes squeezing shut as Strade pulled the knife out and he teased the blade against your inner thigh, your body shuddering at the sensation involuntarily.

“Want you t-t-t-,” your stuttering was out of control, you needed to get a grip, but panic and adrenaline was coursing in your system, “to, fuck me,” you managed to say before he cut into the inside of your thigh, it was deep and you could feel the trickle of blood slope down to your ass. There was a lot. Your mouth opened, a small silent scream, straining against your restraints and knocking your head back against the pole, letting out a slow breath.

You focused back to the memory again,trying to let that crazy moment anchor you instead of this one, you were sure you could think the words out correctly as Strade bit more small cuts lower on your thigh and closer to your knee.

“S-so bad, w-want-” you were cut off by a strangled gasp when he pressed the knife to the deep cut, striking a nerve there that shot up to your throat, it was almost electric. 

“Y-you to fill me, up,” you managed to gasp, you felt over melodramatic with what was going on, but the fear, Strade and the knife felt all too intense. The dread filled up as he dug another deep cut into the thigh, this time on the other side of the first one, you forced your legs not to kick, panting out loud and breathy, you had to focus, but it hurt so much.

“I-I dont care, wreck me,” you swallowed, there was an odd wave of confidence rising inside of you,” make my throat, my pussy, d-dosen’t matter, f-feel sore for days, I w-would want you to f-fucking use me.”

Strade’s eye’s locked with yours, his face was darkened with a blush, you never seen him look so flustered, he was even panting lightly and giving you a lustful stare.

“M-make me your plaything, I-I want it so bad, f-fuck me until I can’t think straight, o-only you,” you paused as Strade’s other hand moved over your knee, fingers brushing against the small cuts there. You felt and watched as it slowly slid down your thigh, the callouses rough and mesmerizing. Your gaze flittered back to him, eye’s locked in on eachother.

“Just you.”

“Ahhh,” he responded, voice rough and he was grinning, his hand was close enough to your inner thigh to rub over the deep cut there, spreading the fluid around and smearing it.

“Ready for some stitches?” he asked, flush slowly disappearing as his hand pulled back from your cut, and you snapped out of the moment of haze harshly. He was still a sick psychopath that kidnapped you and with that wave of confidence you stared him down.

“No fucking way,” you growled out and Strade gave you a surprised look.

“Really?” he was grinning now, coming back in to get closer to you, “ are you afraid it will hurt? That would be fresh coming from you”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice to answer, but that was when Strade’s fingers came up to the first cut and started to finger the opening where the knife sunk down into earlier, playing with the meat there. Squirming and thrashing against the pole you let out a frustrating scream, you weren’t going to give in, you had to have some spine here. Then, he stopped and pulled his finger smearing blood against your leg, laughing at you.

“What? You don’t like it?” he asked, sounding a tad bit concerned, but too excited for it to seem real.

“NO I DON’T FUCKING LIKE IT!,” you spat at him, a bit of rage and haze clouding your mind. He let out a chuckle, eyes narrowed at you before bringing his finger back, moving it around the top layer of the cut. He stopped.

“This isn’t enough,” he panted.

Strade’s face was flushed again, like it was earlier when he was cutting me. It made something inside yourself squirm, you were not sure if it was good or not. He licked his lips, you found yourself watching the motion, that was when he stood up, unzipping his pants.

You felt a protest bubble up from your lips as he began pulling out his cock, but that got interrupted when his other hand came up to your face, holding the knife.

“Open up,” he teased, quickly sliding the blade into your mouth, the blade was facing upwards and was hard against your teeth, you quickly opened your mouth more, not wanting to get cut. The knife got moves to the side as Strade slid the head of his cock inside your mouth.

Something shifted in your head, maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the mix of sexual and emotional feelings you had restrained when it came to Strade, or maybe it was just so easy to give in with someone you were used to obeying and pleasing out of your own sexual drive. The knife in your mouth made your pulse jump, but your heart sped up when you felt his dick inside you. His free hand moved to grab the back of your head as he thrusted inside your mouth, a groan vibrating from him. You breathed through your nose calmly and rubbed your tongue up against him, not sucking yet with that blade still stuck in your mouth.

A pleasant moan came from Strade, he slid the knife out, you relaxed a little more, wrapping your lips around his length with  slow careful breaths, giving a small suck, cheeks pulling in slightly. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, as he pushed deeper into your mouth at an eased pace. With your hands still tied back you were limited to only use your mouth, so that’s what you did. Strade’s hand at the back of your head and his hips moving forward you bobbed down on him, giving a quick suck when movement was paused and the head of his cock was in your mouth. You traced your tongue against his slit and sucked a bit harder, narrowing your eyes at him.

He started to thrust again, this time keeping a stable rhythm, but you wanted to go farther, you relaxed your jaw more and swallowed him down, pressing your face into his skin, nose brushed up against his pubes. Strade let out a nice moan, taking his time pulling back and thrusting you down that far again. Grip on your head tightened, you started to feel like you might gag, but you held it together and moaned, gripping onto the rope around your wrist. His movements became more rugged and you took it, making yourself as malleable as possible while he fucked your throat. Then he pulled you down deep, groaning and held your head against his stomach, he was cumming down your throat, you could feel it, but you were also starting to gag. Luckily he pulled you off and let you catch your breath. How courteous. 

Mouth sore, you panted, feeling riled up from that kind of treatment, you could feel how wet you were, especially when a cold breeze drifted by and yeah, you were wet. That was when you felt his boot press down against your vagina, and you let out a hoarse yelp.

“I want you to cum from just this,” he said, it was an order, you can tell, he pressed down and you struggled to press up against his boot, fuck it, if he was going to let you cum you were going to take it.

The pressure was painful, he kept crushing down against the hood of your clit, it made you squirm in pain, you thought about how dirty this was, it made you turned on to another degree, thinking about how you were trying to get off on Strade stepping on you. Then he shifted his boot lower, letting the tip of the rubber soles press and move down against your clit, the stimulation was too good, your orgasm came quickly and was not satisfying enough, but you’ll have it.

Both of you were panting now, Strade finally zipped himself back into his pants, looking at you, then he knelt down to your level.

“Aren’t you a surprise?” he said, bringing his hand up to pet the side of your face, it felt nice in your small afterglow.

Standing up again he looked down at you with a smile, “why don’t you rest up, _hm_?”

You nodded, that sounded like a good idea, but then you shifted and looked down, you were covered in drool, blood and your own cum. You felt like you were in a daze as you spoke.  
  
“I’m messy...” you uttered, voice raw and a bit broken. Strade looked over you, nodding, he didn’t say anything, he walked away to grab a few things from the shelf and the sound of water running filled your ears. He came back and tilted your chin up, you felt a warm rough rag drag over your skin, it felt good. He wiped up the spit, the blood around your wounds and quickly swiped over your cunt quickly.

“There,” he smiled, “all clean.”

He walked away, tossing the rag over to the cabinets, there was the sound of his boots going up the stairs and then the basement was flooded in darkness again. You felt disappointed in him leaving. Wait. What.

You shook your head, what were you thinking? You felt crazy, this was insane. You ended up nodding off to sleep though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied, this is going to have more chapters than I expected, most of the dialogue and actions do come from the game, especially in this chapter, but I'm going to dip more into the au later sense I wanted to write day 1 similar to the beginning part of the route. It's a nice warmup for what is to come.
> 
> Let me know what you think, leave me a pretty comment below and I'll see you in the next chapter!
> 
> -Jasper


	3. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” Strade began as he slowly brought his hand back out before sliding it back down into your depths, a choked sob broke from you, a bit of drool spilled from your mouth. You clenched down on him and ground your hips into the bench frame.
> 
> “We’re not allowed to dabble in bloodplay legally, or even allowed to bring actual floggers to BDSM clubs,” he said, hand paused inside of you before the flogger was brought back down across your back, hitting you like as if you stuck a fork in an electric socket, his fist pushed inside harder and you were spasming. Fluid trickled down your shoulders to your arms, you shifted your head to see it, it was blood.
> 
> “There’s too many complications, it really… Limits us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired lol

Waking up was a groggy almost hungover state, your head hurt less than last time, but everywhere else hurt from your jaw to your legs and pelvis. Slowly you let your vision develop to the darkness, taking your time to adjust. Once you did, you moved your wrists around, finding some give in your restraints, pushing at it you let out a quiet gasp as your wrists slipped free. A quick coursing feeling of hope went through you, but when you moved to get up there was the pain again and the spreader bar was still there. You moved to grasp at the cuffs, trying to find the strap or buckle to unlock them. You found none.

You felt a small groove in them and by touching the cuff now, you realised it was metal. The cuffs were metal that you assumed connected together and was being held by some mechanical lock. The lock you figured because pulling at where the seams were on the cuffs was not giving any resistance. Even when you thought you could pull it apart at a new angle, there was a hard resistance. What kind of fucking device was this?

There was no point in trying to get up now, getting up with the spreader bar still on will probably make you fall and it would just be too much for your body to handle. With a sigh you slumped back, slipping your wrists back into the ropes and falling asleep again.

You woke up with a sharp kick into your injured thigh, letting out a yelp you jerked up at attention. Strade was looming over you, smiling and chuckling at you.

“You look fresh and ready for a new day,” he said cheerfully, it was still offputting, most people who turn out to be sick like him were painted to have a personality shift. That was what you were taught to believe, but that was what made it worse, he didn’t act any different than the personality you were used to. It was like he wasn’t even trying to hide to begin with.

“Want something to eat?” he asked, crouching down and waving another protein bar in front of you.

You felt your teeth grinding as you shook your head, it was probably a stupid choice, but you didn’t want him close to you.

“No? Suit yourself,” he chuckled and ate the bar for himself, continuing to talk between bites.

“You know, I’m getting to know you so much better,” he chewed, looking over you, “it’s the adrenaline, your excited.”

Strade paused, finishing the bar, he tossed the wrapper to the ground, “I’m _excited_.”

That was when he leaned in close to you, there was a smell that came from him, like machine grease, and his sweat. It was nauseating to your nose, but another part of you liked it a little too much. His sunset eyes narrowed at you, sparked with some sort of energy that made your bones vibrate, you could feel it.

“We’re sharing something very… _Personal_ ,” he breathed the last part out and chuckled, “more personal than what we do in my studio, wouldn’t you think so _Schatz_?”

He reached out and grabbed your face, rough digits digging slightly into the flesh of your cheeks as he pressed down, making your lips pucker. Laughing, he let go, petting the side of your face.

“You look a little scared,” his eyes narrowed and you glared at him, and he chuckled, letting out an excited noise that did not settle well with you.

“I can tell you’re feeling a little helpless, but that’s what you like isn’t it?”

Strade pulled back and grasped the spreader bar, yanking your legs out further, making you gasp and straining against your bounds.

“But this isn’t a session, this isn’t just about _you_ , it’s about _us_ ,” he said, crouching down and taking a small hooked pin, the metal matching the color of the cuffs. He stuck it into a slot in the cuffs and they detached with a loud click. The spreader bar got tossed to the side and your legs ache when you were finally able to pull your knees together, relief flooding through you.

“We’re learning more about each other,” he said with a chuckle, dread was welling up inside you again.

“Which is why I’m giving you control this time, do you want mercy or captivity?”

The question was odd, you were not so sure what he meant by this, it was such an odd question, you were not even sure what they entailed. You thought about it quickly, mercy was probably a trick, unless that was what he wanted you to think, maybe he was trapping you into picking captivity. Glancing at him, he was starting to get impatient, but he held your gaze. That’s when it hit you, he didn’t care, this was just a game for him, it was no different than the sessions he ran, except he was holding all the cards. And you weren’t even playing.

“Captivity,” you said, it didn’t matter, he was going to do something horrible either way, you could tell. Strade smiled wide, turning over to grab something from the counters, coming back with a thick leather collar with a huge o-ring. He tightened it around your neck, humming.

“I knew we had a _real_ , connection,” he said with a chuckle, fingers looping through the o-ring and yanking your head forward. “I want to keep you too.”

You felt unsettled by that statement and even more confused. The collar was nice though and you hated to feel comfort in it, especially sense in any other situation you would be drooling and begging for the torture. But not like this. You were kinky, but you were also scared and knew this situation was wrong. He clipped a chain to the o-ring and held it close to your neck with one hand, the other untying your wrists.

Strade yanked you up, forcing you to your feet, getting choked and strangled in the process as he hurried you to another part of the basement. There was a dark corner where he clipped the chain to the ceiling, using a step ladder to do it and the height was too high, you had to go on your tiptoes to keep from strangulation.

“Stay,” he said, talking to you like you were a dog, it was not like you had any other choice with the want to breath being top priority right now. He kicked the step ladder away from you and disappears from your sight, you could hear him leave the basement, but the lights weren’t turned off this time. You listened to his footsteps moving above you, the floorboards creaked and groaned. Minutes passed, you could hear another set of steps moving above, they were quieter, smoother steps and then there was Strades exuberantly joyous voice. Conversation, someone else was here. You breathed in through your nose, you were about to start screaming when you paused.

“ _Like I said, I’m not sloppy_ ,” those words tickled in your head, there was no way he would do something that risky without some sort of safeguard. Maybe the basement was soundproof, getting a better look with the lights on you noticed there were no windows down here. That caused a hideous shiver to crawl down your spine.

Seconds turned into minutes, you weren’t sure how long you were left, struggling to not get strangled, but your legs ache from standing tiptoe. You decided to move your arms up to grip the chain, with a huff you pulled with your upper arm strength and held yourself up off the ground for a few seconds, giving your feet a small rest. But you haven't eaten, your body trembled and your strength gave out quickly the more you tried to do this. It felt helpless.

Your throat tightened up, this was so frustrating and sick, why you? Why was this happening to you? What did you do wrong? Tears came without warning, skin prickled and body trembling, it wasn’t fair, it was such a terrible situation and you were probably going to die here. Your throat tightened more and the light strangling from the collar and chain made the contrasting worse, a rogue choked sob escaped your lips. You slapped a hand over your mouth, this was something that had to happen privately, a small strong part of you refused to let him hear you.

After crying your eye’s out and sobbing into your hand you felt better, your head throbbed and your stomach still clawed at you with hunger, but you felt better. Five minutes passed and Strade was not back, footsteps moved around the house and then the creaking became distant. Bringing your hands up you felt the buckle on the collar, you decided to take it off, feeling shamefully stupid for not realizing until now that you could remove it. You slipped it off carefully and counted which notch the buckle was gaged at. You couldn’t leave it was too risky, but for the moment you let yourself breath and wander back to where you were being kept earlier.

Food, you needed food, your eyes locked on the fridge and opened it without any hesitation before you were filled with regret. There were tupperware containers, filled with organs, flesh, amalgamations of gore and curdling blood. One of the containers held meat that was turning a sickly grey color with a pool of blood that had spoiled to a black color at this point. You turned your head away from the fridge to take a deep breath and keep from hurling. Carefully, you looked through the fridge, ignoring this unsettling feeling, there was a ziplock bag full of cooked meat, you weren’t sure what kind of meat, but then your stomach growled and you made up your mind on spot. You tore into the slab, there was no seasoning, the meat was red and thick, you chewed it down to mush in your mouth, grinding it down enough to swallow, quickly before you could think too much about it. If you did you might gag and you needed the energy to keep it down. There was a bottle of water in the back of the fridge, keeping your ears alert, you chugged it down, making the lump of meat stuck in your throat go down faster. You tossed the bottle into a trashcan nearby before you heard footsteps upstairs again.

Fear prickled up in you, you ran back to the corner, grasping the collar and fumbling to latch it back on, straining on your tiptoes and pulling the strap in tight, why did it have to be so tight? You managed to get it clipped in the right latch as the sound of Strade’s footsteps came down the stairs. He carried a duffle bag over his shoulders and plopped it down by you, looking over you with a grin.

“You hanging in there buddy?” he said with laughter in his tone, you nodded in response, up on your tip toes and hands folded behind your back obediently.

“Look at you, being so good, you didn’t even touch your collar did you?” Strade reached up and slipped a finger into the band, making it tighter and choking you with the strain. You started gasping for control, for breath, he stuck another finger in, it was so tight and his fingers pressed into your trachea, a choking noise pressed out of you. It hurt, the pressure and the choking, it was tight, stomach acids rolling around and it burned, everything burned. Then he pulled his fingers out and laughed at your coughing fit you had in reaction.

“You could of slipped free, es ist sehr _interessant_ ,” he patted your cheek affectionately.

You watched his tongue peak out to lick at his lips, you didn’t want to watch, but you did. You did and it made you feel sick, how excited he made you, how ready you were, it was insane.

“I’m curious as to how much control I can give you, see all these sheets?” Strade walked away to pat at one of the cloth covered furniture pieces in the room. The sheets fell down to the ground and gave no form away, you counted up to five, at least from what you can see from the corner.

“I want you to pick one, I’ll give you a count from ten and if you don’t give me an answer, well…” he tapped at the blade on his hip, you got the point. Strade beamed at you and gave you a toothy grin.

“Let’s start! Ein… zwei… drei,” he started to count off in German, you looked over at all the forms with sheets covering them. There was a particularly large frame in the back, it was immediately crossed off, you had no clue what could be under these sheets. It could be a torture device or worse, you couldn’t tell and it was giving you a new wave of anxiety that you had no time to deal with. You weren’t even sure where Strade was on counting when you pointed at the smaller form, only one sheet was pulled over it and you drew a quick conclusion that it wouldn’t be too bad.

“T-That one… Sir,” you said firmly, not sure if the title would help the situation or no, you hoped it would at least let him go easy on you.

Strade smiled, wide and big, it was almost too hard to watch, his eyes glinted with excitement, he pointed at the furniture to make sure it was the one you chose. You nodded and watched as he grabbed the sheet and yanked it off. It was a dark cherry wood sex bench, the kind you would see in someone’s dungeon set up. It was already set up with four shelves with padded black leather for your hands and legs to be held down, the straps were grey and the buckles caught in the light nicely. You wanted to imagine that you saw this down here on any other occasion, like maybe Strade asked you to come down here to help him test a new piece he had gotten, go over safewords and maybe he would take you on the bench after ruffling you up.

“Good _choice_ ,” he pushed the stepping ladder over to you again and unclipped the chain from the hook, grasping it tightly to drag you to the sex bench.

Without any warning he moved around you and knee’d you behind the knees, causing you to fall on the bench, it was messy and an awkward angle. Strade was still holding the chain attached to the collar so it got yanked around your neck, choking your neck at a unpleasant angle. The chain was dropped on your back, it was cold and heavy on your skin, Strade’s hands forced your legs into the slots and cuffed them down before harshly doing the same to your arms, except instead of going on the shelf slots they were restrained downward against the wooden frame where there were straps built into the bottom section for your wrists. They were buckled in tightly, you could barely wiggle your wrists and it was borderline painful.

Strade made a satisfying noise behind you, you could feel his hand on your lower back, his palm moving down over the curve of your ass to the spilt from there to your thighs. His hand repeated the motion in a pet, like he was staring at a blank canvas before he played with it. Then he dipped his hand in between your thighs, curling up to flick his fingers against your clit harsh and rough. A gasp left you and your hips canted up, it felt good, he was rubbing his fingers down now in circular motions, swirling around and kneading at the nerves. A slow moan was pulled out of you as his fingers drifted back and pressed into your entrance, fingers spreading and rubbing against the band of muscle there, it burned so good. Then his hand pulled out and removed itself from you, you let out a whine.

Strade whipped his fingers off on your back and you squirmed, feeling gross from the treatment of having your own fluids rubbed on you. Then you could hear him walking away, you hoped he wasn’t going back upstairs, but instead you heard the sound of a zipped and started to tense up. He was humming as he came back and you felt something touching your back. It was the cat o-nine tails, or at least that was what you thought by how the leather straps moved over your back.

You were struck with no warning, directly on your back, it was harsh and rough, the strike made you tense in your bounds and scream. This was not the same kind of strength he used in the studio, hitting at an eight at most or a six, but this was above a ten. It was brutal, the strikes, even the material started to feel rough. Wait, the flogger felt different. By the fourth strike you realised the issue might just be the materials, until you felt how one of the tails hit you. It was braided. Another crack and your voice gave out, letting out a choked sob, violent and purely damaged. You felt a trickle run down your back, your skin throbbed and burned, even the air on it made everything hurt.

“I thought these things _excited_ you,” Strade said right before his fingers clawed into the area where he had struck, fluid getting smeared everywhere. His hand moved down to finger you, slipping in between your folds and jerking inside highly, adding a few more fingers than you could take right as he struck you again. The cry that wrangled itself out of you came out like you were dying, it was like fire crackling over you, more fluid trickled down your back to your neck and your insides clenched around Strade’s fingers. They felt good, so good compared to what was happening, his fingers stretched you and you let out a small weak moan, feeling yourself pant.

The blood drained from your face when you heard him panting, the tails of the flogger teasing over the bleeding strikes on your back, it made you squirm. He shoved his fingers in deeper and there was a clicking sound before you felt liquid being poured over your entrance and on his hand. It was cold and slick, too slick, his hand sunk in deeper and the stretch became almost unbearable. His fist was in you, all the way down to his wrist. You screamed, it felt god awful, but when you clenched down on him a shudder took over your body and it felt _good_.

“You know,” Strade began as he slowly brought his hand back out before sliding it back down into your depths, a choked sob broke from you, a bit of drool spilled from your mouth. You clenched down on him and ground your hips into the bench frame.

“We’re not allowed to dabble in bloodplay legally, or even allowed to bring actual floggers to BDSM clubs,” he said, hand paused inside of you before the flogger was brought back down across your back, hitting you like as if you stuck a fork in an electric socket, his fist pushed inside harder and  you were spasming. Fluid trickled down your shoulders to your arms, you shifted your head to see it, it was blood.

“There’s too many complications, it really… _Limits_ us,” he chuckles and breathes out shakily, you heard something drop and his hand was running over your injured back, digging in and messing with the irritated flesh. You thrashed around, biting back cries of pain, then his hand inside of you began to thrust inside of you, punching inside hard and quick. It shook your whole body, you squeezed your eyes shut, it was too much and his fist was hitting against your cervix, making your stomach churn and everything felt so tight  and too much. You came against his hand with a scream, but he didn’t stop, his other hand that was playing with your wounds smacked down against your ass and you yelped out loud.

“No no no n-” you were crying hard, hands sputtering against the wood of the bench, clawing at it, for something, anything, just to get a _grip_.

Strade was punching into your cervix, you were oversensitive and going haywire, he smacked you again, open palm and in a quick motion that made a low sob bubble from you. Your mind was reeling, you think you came again, but you were not so sure, he wasn’t stopping and the lub had died off a long time ago now so it _burned_. And it would not stop.

Finally his hand pulled out from inside of you, you felt a little trickle leak out from your entrance. It did not feel pleasant, you heard Strade laugh and his hands gripped the back of your thighs. You were quaking as you felt his tongue lap at whatever was leeking, it was probably blood, you were trying not to think about it. A few of his fingers went back inside you, probing around until they hit a tender spot that made you groan and struggle. He messed with it against his fingers and more fluid trickled out when his fingers pulled out.

Strade pulled away, then you watched as he came into your sight of vision, he crouched and made eye contact with you. Both of his hands had a smeared coating of blood on them and there was a nice fresh amount that glistened on his lips. He licked at them and you shuddered, watching the motion with hazy eyes.

“You’re a lot more lively than I thought,” he observed, a bloody grin on his lips as they curled up and his teeth flashed. They reminded you the same way a predator would bare their teeth to their prey. Maybe that’s why he smiled so much.

“But we’re not even done yet,” Strade sighed like he was being wistful, then he stood back up to his height, a hand running through your hair. He walked away, there was a sound of shuffling in the distance where you were chained up earlier. Probably going through that duffle bag. Strade came back into your line of sight, holding a handsaw in his hands and patting it against his palm. A flash of amber and he was closer to you, grabbing your face with one hand, grasping it tightly.

“We’re going to have so much fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UH YEAH THIS IS WHERE I'M STOPPING THE AU- IT WAS GREAT AT FIRST BUT I PUT A LOT OF MENTAL WORK INTO TOO MUCH AND NEED 3 NAPS- plus if I continued to write this au with it being mixed with the actual game I will just keep writing and never come to a conclusion.
> 
> So! Leave me a comment down below on any thoughts, concerns, questions or if you just want to scream!
> 
> You wanna see my blog? just go here: https://euphoriawriter.tumblr.com/ or just lookup my username on tumblr!
> 
> -Jasper <3


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